For Rose and Scorpius
by Eowebrinda
Summary: Rose and Scorpius over time. First year through seventh year, not one shots. Their relationship and how it began.
1. Chapter 1

"Good morning, students," Professor Scarrow said stiffly, walking to the front of the room. "I appreciate you choosing your own seats, but I've already drawn up a seating chart for you..."

The classroom was filled with groans of despair from the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins. Rose gave Violet a miserable look. The two friends had pushed their desks together right away and had been drawing with some of the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes art quills. She had been looking forward to Potions above her other classes after hearing Uncle Harry's stories about the Half-Blood Prince at Christmas last year, but now it looked like the class would be boring and lonely.

"Violet Wayland," Professor Scarrow announced, pointing at the desk in the very front row. "Your older sister is the Gryffindor seeker?" she asked as Violet shuffled to her assigned seat. Violet nodded as she dropped her textbook on the desk with a loud thud. "I've got my eye on you." Violet and Rose exchanged gloomy expressions. Rose had only known Violet for a few days, but her older sister Nina had already proven to be a trouble maker and a bit of a bully. "Mordred Vale," she added, pointing at the desk next to hers. A tall Slytherin boy pulled a face and threw himself into the chair.

Albus was seated in the third row of the classroom next to a stern girl, and the only other Gryffindor Rose knew was put in the desk next to theirs. As Rose realized she was not only going to be sitting next to a complete stranger, but in the very back of the room, her heart sank. She didn't have vision _so_ bad she needed glasses, but she was ever so slightly near sighted. It would be hard enough to just read the board from her seat, forget the classwork itself.

"Rose Weasley," Professor Scarrow announced, pointing to the absolute last desk. She sat down and tried to catch Violet's eye, but a sea of heads was in the way. "And Scorpius Malfoy."

A blond haired boy with a sharp jaw and incredibly pale skin sat down on the bench so gingerly Rose thought he was afraid he'd break it or something. He flipped open his bag and emptied an ink pot and a few blank rolls of parchment onto the desk. For some reason, he looked vaguely familiar.

_Make sure you beat him in every test, Rosie_, she remembered her dad whispering to her on Platform 9 and 3/4. And of course Mum's horrified face as she began berating Dad for saying something like that. He was a _Malfoy_! She knew there was plenty of bad blood between the Malfoys and the Weasleys—of course, if you listened to Dad, there was bad blood between the Malfoys and everyone in the whole world—and now she was sitting next to him in Potions.

Today just kept getting better.

She had been looking forward to going to Hogwarts for her entire life. She and Albus and James had all talked about what they thought it would be like—and then last year, when James got back for the Christmas holidays and he actually _could_ tell them what it was like, it had been so much realer. Until that point, Hogwarts had been more like a fanciful daydream, but all of a sudden, it was really there. What had really driven that point home was Aunt Ginny threatening James over his grades and telling him that if they didn't improve, he'd better forget about leaving the house until the day he turned seventeen.

She snapped back into reality, realizing someone was calling her name. "Ms. Weasley," Professor Scarrow was saying. She wondered how many times she'd had to repeat herself. Judging by her thin lips, Rose was guessing it had been more than once. "Are you even paying attention? What is another name for Wolfsbane?"

Rose hesitated. The word sounded vaguely familiar—she was sure Dad had mentioned it in one of his school stories over the dinner table. She just couldn't come up with it, though.

"No?" Professor Scarrow asked, looking disappointed but rather pleased at the same time. "Can you even tell me what the practical application of a bezoar is? Show me you've been listening a _little_, or it's detention."

Rose froze. She had absolutely no idea. She could just imagine Mum sending her a Howler. _Detention on your first day of school? How could you not even know what a bezoar is? _

Professor Scarrow seemed to be fighting a smile. Rose imagined the ancient woman took pleasure in watching her students fail. Who gave out detention on their first day back to class? "No answer? Well then..." she said.

"It's an antidote to many poisons," Scorpius whispered suddenly, pointing to the top of his notes—all of which were taken in impeccable handwriting.

She figured she had nothing to lose with his guess. "It's an antidote," she called out, cutting off Professor Scarrow. "To many poisons."

Professor Scarrow's face fell, obviously upset about not getting a chance to punish Rose. She gave Scorpius a suspicious look, even though his face had remained turned to his textbook throughout the entire encounter. "Correct," she said, striding back to the front of the classroom. "Now, everyone open your textbooks to chapter one and follow along. Take notes, we'll be having a test this Friday."

Rose was quickly lost in the jumble of phrases that Professor Scarrow was spouting, not even bothering to explain to the students. She looked around the room and saw that Albus was scratching his head, equally confused. He turned around to catch her eye, but Professor Scarrow barked, "Potter!" and he spun around quickly, dropping his eyes.

None of this was making sense. Aside from writing in this microscopic cursive, Professor Scarrow talked at a million miles an hour in a monotone drone. In front of her, two Slytherins were snoozing on their textbooks, seemingly surrendering to failure. She glanced at Scorpius, who was hunched over his notes and writing in an infuriatingly fast and neat way. He was nodding along with the lecture like it made sense. Rose was torn between grudging respect and complete hatred for him.

"Are you getting any of this?" she whispered to him. He gave a tiny nod as he dipped his quill in his ink pot and resumed the mad writing, if anything speeding up as if to make up for his lost time on the tiny pause.

Rose tried to just listen and pick up on anything she could, but Professor Scarrow stopped suddenly. "Answer the questions on the board from the lecture," she commanded, waving her wand at the chalk board. All of her tiny notes were replaced by another tiny list of questions. "Due at the end of the hour," she added maliciously, giving them a wicked grin.

This was turning into a nightmare.

She squinted at the board hard, but she couldn't even make out what was written on it. How was she supposed to answer questions she couldn't read from a lecture she hadn't even heard? Next to her, Scorpius had pulled out another leaf of parchment and was carefully printing out the first question. Rose tapped his shoulder and whispered, "I can't read the questions—what do they say?"

Scorpius opened his mouth to respond, but Professor Scarrow snapped, "No talking!" and he instantly clapped his mouth shut.

Rose took out a blank leaf and stared at it. In front of her, one of the Slytherins let out a long snore. She wondered if she might just put her head down and take a nap, too. It would probably be the most productive thing she'd do the whole class.

Scorpius pushed a few sheets toward her and tapped the top one with his quill. She looked at it and realized it was his notes and a concise list of the questions on the board. Flashing him a big grin, she began filling out the paper.

By the end of the hour, she had barely finished the very long list of questions when Professor Scarrow announced, "Turn all of your papers in now, finished or not." There were some horrified groans around the room as everyone looked at how much they had left. Scorpius stood up and marched away fast.

At the front of the room, Albus stopped her. "What's the twelfth principle of potion making?" he muttered in a panic. Rose pushed her paper toward him and gave Professor Scarrow a quick look to make sure she wasn't watching. He copied down what she had written and mumbled, "Blimey, your handwriting is awful."

Rose punched his arm and snatched her sheet away. "This is the thanks I get?" she asked indignantly, but couldn't hold back a smile. As she handed over her paper to Professor Scarrow, the grim faced teacher made a little tutting noise and shook her head. Rose hurried back to her seat and gathered her things. "I just wanted to thank you, you really saved me back there," she said, but as she turned her head she saw Scorpius was already out the door and hastening away from the classroom.

"What a first class!" Albus exclaimed as he joined her. "She talked and it was like I wasn't even hearing her words! How did you stay so on top of everything?"

"The boy next to me is a whiz at this stuff," Rose told him. "He let me borrow his notes—probably already memorized the entire lesson plan."

"That Slytherin?" Albus asked, letting out a low whistle. "You really lucked out—my partner's notes were more crude drawings with captions that I won't repeat." He gave her a lopsided grin. "That witch was picking on you—how mean is that! Did you remember Dad's story, then?"

"Uncle Harry?" Rose asked, confused. "What did he do?"

"He used a bezoar to save Uncle Ron, right? That's how you knew the answer to the question?" Rose opened her mouth to correct him and explain Scorpius's part in it, but Albus's mind had already wandered away and he was asking, "Wonder what's for lunch?"

James joined them at the table, sighing as he flopped down with a stack of books. He slammed his head against the pile in dismay. "Mum's already on my case," he groaned. "'Cut one more class this year and I'll shove a blast-ended skrewt so far down your throat...' And she's got McGonagall dogging my every step. I've got 'independent study hall' with her every night this semester, which is just a fancy way of saying 'detention until you shape up'. So much for Quidditch tryouts..."

"Think you'll go out for Quidditch, Albus?" Rose asked, reaching across three people for the chips. A sandy haired Gryffindor exclaimed indignantly as she dragged her sleeve through his soup. "Sorry!" she added, hastily pulling her arm back and taking out her wand to remove the tomato soup.

Albus shook his head. "No first years allowed, remember?" he pointed out.

"They made an exception for Uncle Harry," Rose reminded him.

James shook his head at her, like she'd said something amusing. "Dad was the best seeker Gryffindor had seen since Grandpa James was a kid," he informed her. "Albus is Albus."

Rose flung a piece of bread at him. "Look who's talking!" she said, even as Albus ducked his head and bit into his sandwich. They dissolved into bickering over Quidditch lineups and sports talk, and all thoughts of Potions slipped from her mind.

* * *

><p>Scorpius sat in the owlery miserably. For a school his parents had both raved about fanatically, he didn't feel like it was living up to his expectations. He had chosen a perilous perch on the windowsill, pressing his feet against one side and his back on the other. The dungeon disturbed him too much to stay in there. Just sleeping in there was bad enough.<p>

And his house-mates weren't exactly welcoming to him. His stuff kept turning up in the toilets or shredded by someone's cat. There wasn't a single person he could call a friend here. It wasn't helping that there had been no reply to any of his letters so far, even though he had written plenty. Every day this month, he had sent an owl home to Malfoy Manor. And every day, as the post arrived, the owls never dropped a letter in front of him.

No, his parents hadn't strictly _promised_ they'd write every day, send all their love, hugs and kisses and whatnot. He hadn't wanted that. But he would have liked them to say _anything_. Every time he wrote, he talked about how great his classes were, how great his friends were, how great things were, how great, how great, how great. What he wanted them to do was look at his letters and know that something was wrong, and that he had never felt more alone in his life. Yes, he knew Dad was busy. He knew that the family rarely even looked at their mail because of all the hate letters wizards were sending(over their Death Eater involvement so long ago), many of which were Howlers that they often had incinerated before they could even open.

The only class he could abide was Potions. It was his best subject—not that he'd struggled with any, really. It was sort of like cooking, he reflected, but there was something much more satisfying about a Draught of Living Death than a fresh batch of cookies. His desk partner was hopelessly incompetent, though. He suspected she couldn't see the board from where they sat, as she was always asking him about directions. Ever since the first day, when he'd helped her out on their first assignment, she seemed to want to be friends with him. Only he didn't. She was a Weasley, after all. His dad would positively kill him.

He didn't know why he had been so nice, anyway. Maybe it was his hatred of the cruel teacher picking on her, or maybe it was his hatred of having a question answered incorrectly, but he had muttered the bezoar answer as well. What was coming over him? All the other Slytherin first years had been laughing about what an idiot she'd looked like and what a shame it was she had somehow escaped detention. 'Bad luck', they called it. He was sure if they found out, they'd dislike him even more.

Ever since then, he'd ignored all her attempts at conversation. It wasn't hard to shut her down with a muttered answer, although he couldn't resist helping her out as she floundered. Although even with his help, all of her practical applications usually turned black and boiled away so badly he wondered if she had a hexed cauldron.

He was reviewing for their first really important test now, although he was having trouble focusing on actually studying—the owlery was chillier now that fall was starting to really kick in in full effect. And Hogwarts, while unwelcoming, was nothing if not beautiful at this time of the year. He could see the campus for miles. The Forbidden Forest was brilliant oranges and reds and the sky was deep blue with only a few picturesque puffy clouds sailing by in the distance. It was hard not to appreciate the elegance of it all.

But, he reflected, with nothing under his robes but a thin tee shirt and a pair of jeans, he was growing cold fast. Although he had decided to wrap his Slytherin scarf around his neck—who put on a scarf, but not a jacket? He nestled his face into it and breathed out warm air to thaw his frozen cheeks. Then he slid off the windowsill and pushed all his belongings back into his bag. The library, he decided. No one would bother him there if he sat next to Madame Pincer's desk. And Madame Pincer kept the library warmer than most saunas. It was boiling in there. Just the kind of place he felt like going right now.

As Scorpius reached for the door handle to leave the owlery, the big door flew back open to smack him in the face. He went staggering, stars spinning in front of his eyes as he clutched his forehead. "Oh, no!" cried a familiar voice. "I'm sorry! Are you okay?"

He nodded, straightening up and blinking away the dancing lights. It was his potions partner, Rose. Speak of the devil, he mused. "I'm fine," he said finally, realizing she was waiting for him to speak. His voice was two octaves higher than it normally should have been. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Fine."

She smiled, embarrassed. "I can't believe it. You helped me out so much in Potions and I repay you by bashing your head in with a door."

Scorpius gave a faint grin. "I'm fine," he said again, feeling like the dumbest ape on the entire planet.

Rose patted him on the head—she was a good ten centimeters taller than he was, he realized with some embarrassment. "I never did say thank you—you vanished so quickly," she said. "You really saved my butt back there. How are you so good at that stuff? I barely understand her words, much less her concepts."

Scorpius mumbled an incoherent reply that probably was more than half stuttering. He hated how she had turned it back on him. _You vanished so quickly_. Of course, it probably wasn't intentional, but it was a trick his parents sometimes used when they wanted him to do something, and he had grown to resent people who used it as such. "Sorry," he muttered finally, silencing his babbling.

Rose seemed to sense the conversation was taking a turn for the worse, so she shifted gears. "Mailing a letter?"

He shook his head. "Not anymore," he said. There was a bit of an awkward silence as Scorpius realized he was supposed to say something back to her. He fumbled for a question. "Who are you writing to?"

She waved her envelope in the air and one of the owls hopped over, snatching it out of her hands with its beak. "Mum and Dad. They've written me so much, but I've just been really busy with everything. I'm barely keeping up in History of Magic—Binns just puts me straight to sleep." Scorpius felt he couldn't relate here—History of Magic was his other favorite class. He loved to know exactly how everything happened, and he loved the undeniable facts that it provided. Yes, Professor Binns was a bit of a droner, but Scorpius found he learned best when he could set the words to a sort of rhythm. "Your parents write loads?"

"No," he said sharply, and she startled in surprise. "I mean, they're really busy," he remedied. "I don't write them much, either."

She nodded, like she had understood something else. Scorpius flushed. He hated being pitied. Short, nerdy, and pale though he may have been, he was still a Malfoy. And he had plenty of pride. Scorpius brushed past her and hurried down the hall. His plans to go to the library abandoned, Scorpius set his course for the third floor. It was usually unpopulated, which would make it even better for avoiding anyone he knew.

"Oi, Malfoy!" Rose bellowed as he rounded the corner. Blimey, she had a pair of lungs on her. Scorpius ducked his head. "I'm sorry!"

"Shut up," he muttered under his breath, stuffing his notes back into his bag.

But Rose didn't shut up. She was waiting for him before Potions the next morning, already sitting at her desk and obviously primed to talk to him. He dawdled in the hallway until Professor Scarrow was within sight and then he ducked into the classroom to take his seat. Rose opened her mouth to say something, but Professor Scarrow silenced her when she slammed the door shut behind her and announced, "Essence of Dittany!"

And while she was quiet for the rest of the lecture, she started talking incredibly fast the second Professor Scarrow dismissed them, like she had memorized it. "Before you disappear on me, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry if I offended you yesterday when we were talking and I should have been more considerate before opening my big fat mouth," she recited.

Scorpius lifted his head, amused by the speech. "I'm not mad," he said, relenting. And he found he wasn't. How could he be? No reasonable person could expect her to have known that he didn't like to talk about his parents. His dad had said many times he held grudges far too long.

"Really?" Rose said suspiciously, narrowing her eyes at him. "Because you sure looked mad."

He shrugged. "I'm over it," he told her.

"Rose!" her cousin shouted, standing at the door. "Let's go, James said he'd show us what Uncle George mailed on from Weasley Wizarding Wheezes!" Rose jumped up and chased after him.

"The sweetbox?" she asked as they bustled out the door. Scorpius stuffed the rest of his things in his bag and hurried out in the hall. It was lunch time, yes, but he had lost his appetite during class—Essence of Dittany smelled rather like burning rubber in the brewing stage, and it was clinging to the insides of his nostrils. In fact, he was starting to feel rather nauseous. Perhaps he ought to go see the nurse...

By the time Scorpius hauled himself into the hospital wing, he was shivering all over and was quite sick to his stomach. Madame Pompfrey ushered him inside, taking one look and making a tsking sound. She directed him to one of the beds. "It's just a bug that's been going around lately," she assured him. "You'll be fine. Stay here tonight, and you can ask one of your friends what you missed in class tomorrow. Alright?"

Scorpius nodded feebly, although he wasn't sure who he knew that would give him the work he missed. _Rose would_, a voice in his head murmured. His other classes weren't with her, though. He shook his head to clear that thought.

He was quite bored for the next hour, until just when lunch was set to end, in bustled a small crowd. "We can't get her to stop vomiting," a boy was explaining. He looked like a second year and was patting the back of a girl with her face turned to a bucket. "It's one of the Weasley products, but the other end is defective." For good effect, the girl chose that moment to let out a moan that ended with the disgusting sound of puke hitting the bucket.

With a jolt, Scorpius recognized Rose and her cousin Albus. That must make the older boy 'James'. He watched in mild fascination and concern.

"Oh yes," Madame Pomfrey said, looking disinterested. "Get her to one of the beds. She'll be fine, I deal with these cases quite often. My own remedy isn't as effective as the Weasleys in that its not instantaneous, but she'll be able to attend dinner on her own. And please turn over the box, Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes is strictly forbidden contraband."

James reluctantly passed over a black cardboard box and sighed. "We didn't even get to try the Nosebleed Nougats," he complained.

"Can we keep her company?" Albus asked, looking worried as Rose gave another loud retch.

"Get to class," Madame Pomfrey ordered, looking quite displeased. She examined the box with a disgusted expression and tossed it in the garbage next to the door. James gave Rose a cheeky grin as he headed to the door and snatched it out without ever breaking his stride. He tossed the box in the air, looking proud of himself, before hurrying off down the hall.

Rose stopped vomiting every five minutes within a half hour, and it was then that her steady stream of visitors began to wander in. First was a seventh year with equally ginger hair that Scorpius assumed was another relative. When the class ended, Albus and James reappeared in the room for a few minutes, and they were followed by a beautiful girl who looked like she was part Veela. Scorpius rolled over and shut his eyes, determined to sleep. He didn't want to talk to Rose, once her friends all filed away. He didn't want to open his eyes. He felt nauseous and cold, and was none too happy about either.

But sleep eluded him, and he lay there until the lights dimmed from the windows—the sun was setting. He was left with nothing but his own thoughts to keep him company. But at some point, he must have fallen into a light sleep, as he was woken by the sounds of Rose's cousins collecting her for dinner. Scorpius kept his eyes firmly shut until the door clicked shut gently behind them, and it wasn't long until he returned to his restless sleep.

* * *

><p>"Rose, wake up," Albus whispered to Rose. Rose sat up and rubbed her eyes blearily. Had she fallen asleep while she was sitting here? She hadn't even been that tired. Her unfinished Muggle Studies paper sat in her lap, the ink smudged from where it shifted over the white sheets. Big purple streaks ran across the top sheet.<p>

"Madame Pomfrey is going to kill you," James breathed in delight, looking quite amused by the thought. "Let's get you out of here before she sees."

Rose scrambled out of her bed and pulled her robes back on over her pajamas. She was discovering the very convenient fact that nobody ever saw what she had underneath her big black robes and as a result had taken to keeping her fuzzy night pants on all through the day, paired with a red and gold tie. She gathered her stuff and began hurrying for the door. "I'm still mad at you for the Puking Pastille," she added, shooting James a look. "'Defective sweet', my foot. You know, it can't be good to eat only the antidote when you haven't taken the other end."

"It was the last one, and I thought—what the heck!" James said, shrugging. "You have to admit it was funny. Right, Albus?"

Albus looked torn between a stern face and raucous laughter. "Maybe a little," he said.

James began pantomiming Rose emptying her guts on the Great Hall floor. Rose turned bright red. "I did _not _make that face!" she squawked indignantly as Albus opened the door quietly and held it for them to slip through. She glanced over her shoulder into the infirmary for one last check and saw Scorpius sleeping with the thin sheets pulled up to his ears. She felt a little sorry for him—after all, her family and friends had all made an effort to come make sure she was feeling better, and not a single person had come in to check on the sallow faced Slytherin.

He was an odd case, that Scorpius Malfoy.

* * *

><p>AN: Well, it's me again! I finally thought I might write something after all this time, and my best friend(who is a big Rose/Scorpius) shipper had her birthday yesterday. This is my present to her! So, since this is for Estelle, I'd like to take a moment and say a few of my favorite things about her. 1. She is such an independent thinker. She won't accept what's spoon fed to her by society. 2. She's very easygoing and playful. She's very rarely down, and she always cheers other people up with her presence. I'd like to keep saying a few things about her each chapter, if that's alright.

About the actual fanfiction itself- While I'm trying to use characters JK Rowling created, I unfortunately cannot do that for all of them. I dislike OCs as much as the next person, but there will be a few of them this story. I do not intend to make them major characters or 'self inserts' in any way, however. This chapter was a little shorter than I would have liked, but I intend to make my others longer to make up for it.

Thank you for reading! Please review with any suggestions or comments!

Final note: As this is a birthday gift, I will only update on Estelle's birthday. See you all next year!


	2. Chapter 2

"We're _back_," Rose repeated, bouncing up and down eagerly on the seat. "I'm so glad—any more summer, trapped at Grandma's... I was this close to going crazy." She held up her fingers about a centimeter apart. "I swear, one more game of exploding snap and I'd've had it. I'd be throwing dishes like Auntie Fleur."

"Or _at_ her," James mused. "I thought for sure Grandma would've taken her head off after she made that comment about her treacle tart being a little too dry for her 'well refined tastes'."

Albus nodded noncommittally. He personally thought Grandma Molly had been fighting back loud enough with her records playing "A Hot Cauldron Full of Love" non-stop for the last month. He would be glad if he never heard the song again, as her vengeful retaliation was grating on the ears of everyone staying there. Uncle Percy and Aunt Audrey, along with their two daughters, had fled the Burrow about a week before, giving the excuse of a family disaster on Audrey's side. Albus strongly suspected that the 'disaster' was Audrey couldn't take another moment in the house.

The train rattled along the tracks, knocking them around their seats a little every few minutes. James looked bored of talking to them, and Albus couldn't blame him. He and Rose preferred to talk about books and classes, while James was more interested in girls and playing pranks. James seemed to have a lot of friends, but he hung around with them so much that Albus couldn't help wondering how close he was to his mates. Suddenly, James perked up. "Hey—I can go out for Quidditch this year!" he exclaimed suddenly. "No more private study with McGonagall!"

Rose beamed. "Congratulations, James!" she said. "What position are you going to try out for?"

"Beater," he said, nodding seriously. "Just like Uncle George. He was coaching me over the summer." He pushed up his sleeves to reveal a long line of purple and yellow bruises. "I wasn't very good at it when we started," he admitted sheepishly.

"It looks like you two were brawling, not playing Quidditch," Albus commented, examining one of his arms carefully.

"I kept throwing my arms up to block my face. I actually did break my arm once, but Uncle George mended it so fast and swore he'd never say a word to Mum if I didn't. And you two won't, either," he threatened, giving them a glare.

Rose giggled, "Of course not. So you got your grades out of that black hole?"

James nodded proudly. "I may not have any Granger blood in me, but I'm passing every class I took." He sighed happily. "And Dad's even letting me use his Firebolt," he added. "Said he doesn't need it any more. It may be old, but that thing's still one of the best brooms you'll find on the market. I was so afraid I'd break it when I was packing."

"Are you going to try out, Albus?" Rose asked, obviously not following any of the talk about broom quality.

Albus hesitated. He noticed James pause in the corner of his eye. As it was, James probably would have a much better chance of making friends outside of the two of them if his younger brother wasn't dogging his every step. Besides... he wanted to be a Seeker, but he was worried he'd be absolutely awful at it. Two generations of Potter Seekers before him that both won the House Cup multiple times for Gryffindor... it was a lot to live up to. "No," he said quickly. "I'd rather just focus on my studies. I've got Professor Scarrow for Potions again, and I don't want to get behind with the old hag."

Next to him, James exhaled microscopically, and Albus knew he was making the right decision. Maybe someday, he'd give it a go. Rose pursed her lips, obviously suspecting why he really wasn't doing it, but she nodded.

"What about you, Rose?" Albus asked, hoping to turn the conversation away from himself. "Think you'll ever be a Chaser?"

She shook her head. "Honestly, I like to watch Quidditch, but it's not my favorite thing to play," she admitted. "Personally, I prefer Muggle sports like football. Violet taught me how to play last year after finals—she's Muggle born and all—and we're going to try and find enough to make a team this year."

James gave her a sad look. "You're part of the only culture in the world that will ever play Quidditch, and you'd rather waste it on Muggle sports?"

"It's a personal choice," she said, frowning at him. "And I'll still come to all your matches, so buck up."

That seemed to satisfy him. They talked about their schedules for the next few hours with some concern for whether or not they'd be able to pass all of them("Intro to Arithmancy," James moaned, looking horrified. "I thought I'd never have to do math once I left London schools!"). There was quite a bit of poking fun at the school's Divination program, which had not improved over the last nineteen years, as Albus understood. James seemed like he would rather eat nails than listen to Professor Trelawney drone on about the Inner Eye("That can be arranged," Rose informed him).

It was about an hour later when the train ground to a halt and everyone was sent scrambling for their trunks and hurrying to the platform where the massive body of the half-giant Hagrid was flagging down all of the students. "Firs' years with me," he boomed, making many of the younger students jump out of their skin. Among them, Albus knew, was Uncle Percy's youngest daughter Lucy, who had insisted on sitting by herself on the train over and was determined to make her own friends aside from her family. He spotted her in the crowd and gave her a friendly wave, to which she nodded her head and fell into step with another two little girls.

"They grow up so fast," James commented, pointing after her. "This way, then," he added, nodding his head at the carriages that had nothing hooked up to them. "Only first years use the boats," he explained, "we go in the enchanted carriages."

"They're enchanted?" Rose breathed excitedly.

He shrugged. "Must be—nothing's pulling them. Unless they've got invisible horses here." He laughed at the idea of that. Albus had to agree—why would anyone even want an invisible horse? It seemed like that would make it a lot harder to ride.

James led them into an unoccupied carriage and they all climbed in. "I think they need four people before they start moving," he explained. Albus turned his head to look for a lone student who would climb in with them. Outside of Rose and James, he really didn't have many friends at the school. Of course, he _knew_ people, and he could _talk_ to anybody easily, but he was only close to these two.

"Vi," Rose called, waving her arm at her friend, but the girl was already climbing on another carriage. "Oh, they've got four already," she sighed as it began rolling.

Albus spotted Scorpius Malfoy walking along the dirt road with a small cluster of Slytherins. He was looking quite pleased and had a wicked smile on his face. It was quite a change from the Scorpius he had remembered from last year, who had been timid and shy and bore little resemblance to the other Slytherins of his year.

The four of them climbed on a carriage together, and it pulled past theirs. The whole group was laughing and one of them waved cheerfully at the three of them. Not in a nice way, either. In the end, a rotund Gryffindor tossed their trunk up and climbed on, but the carriage started so suddenly that it sent him hurtling off the back. For whatever reason, the carriage didn't stop, and he was forced to run after it. James and Albus caught his hands and pulled him back up, and Rose caught his trunk as it started to slide off. "Thanks," he breathed, sucking air like someone was trying to strangle him. "I thought I was going to have to walk, or worse, catch up with the first years and ride across."

Up ahead, the Slytherin carriage was pointing and laughing hysterically. Rose pulled out her wand. "Aunt Ginny showed me how to do a Bat Bogey hex," she said furiously, aiming it at them. "Should I teach them a lesson?"

"No," Albus said, catching her wand arm as she raised it furiously. "They'll just get you in trouble."

Reluctantly, she lowered her wand as the Gryffindor hauled himself into his seat. "John Fawkes," he wheezed, and it took Albus a moment to realize he was introducing himself. "Nice to meet you."

"It's a pleasure," he said, shaking his sweaty hand. He tried to covertly wipe off the sweat on the leg of his dark jeans. "Is this your second year?"

He shook his head. "Third. I'm not very memorable, though."

"Oh, did we have Muggle Studies together?" James asked, blinking as he remembered. "You made him explain what a toaster was like twelve times, and then I totally aced the 'household appliances' section of that test. Thanks, I think."

There was a stunted conversation that followed until they finally got off the carriages and they were able to hurry into the Great Hall for the feast and the Sorting. The familiar din of the Hall was even louder than usual as people called out to friends they hadn't seen in years and were noisily rehashing their summer holidays. Albus caught another glimpse of Scorpius leaning over the table and talking to one of his friends with a smug expression on his face.

The hall grew quiet as the Headmaster took his place at the podium and held his hands up for silence. "I would like to welcome you all back to our school after your summer away. No doubt you are all wildly eager to get back to homework, rules, curfews and classes," he said. There was a faint rumbling of dissent among the students. "But for all of you, you have returned to a place of traditions and history, a school that will go on long after all of us are gone." The Headmaster was working up to a good speech. Albus bit his tongue to refrain from yawning. Dad had talked about how the old headmaster, Dumbledore, had considered 'a few words' to be simply that—two or three words that he would randomly choose. Albus wished that they could trade that headmaster for this one, who would likely talk until their food got cold in the kitchens. He shook his head and closed his eyes. It would be a long night. But it would be worth it, he reflected. This place was always worth it.

* * *

><p>Scorpius had his face turned toward a text book and was deep in thought, which was how he missed the appearance of Rose Weasley behind him. "Scorpius Malfoy?" she exclaimed suddenly, startling him out of the studying reverie. "And here I thought you were above the library. Where are your obnoxious friends today?"<p>

He shrugged, dropping his eyes back to the text book. Last year he would have been tongue tied. This year, he just didn't have time for her. "I dunno, probably off murdering babies. What do you _think_, they're getting extra help from Professor Scarrow to avoid failing her class. Considering how they slept through it all of last year, I suspect they'll be needing quite a bit of assistance."

She paused. "Oh, I didn't mean it like that," she snapped. "But they weren't exactly pleasant to that boy who fell off our carriage, if you remember. So don't act like I'm making it up."

Scorpius sighed and closed his Defense Against the Dark Arts text book. "I would never insinuate that," he scoffed. "I know fully well that all Slytherin students are depraved and base creatures that all turn into dark wizards."

"I didn't mean that!" she said.

"Then what did you mean?" he asked, sitting back. He was tired of people acting like his house was full of poor excuses for human beings. Sure, they weren't always perfect angels, but who was? He had grown very defensive of his house after multiple incidents last year. For example—he had tried to help a girl who had spilled her Potions ingredients and was rewarded by her suspiciously snatching things out of his hands.

"Oh, fine. Sorry," Rose said, sitting down across the table from him. It startled him a little bit—pretty much no one said sorry anymore. "So what are you up to? We don't have Potions together anymore..."

"No, you're kidding," he said drily, giving her a look. "I thought I'd try Advanced Potions this year. Professor Scarrow recommended me for the class."

She pulled a face and he knew what she was thinking—that Professor Scarrow had gotten him in because he was a Slytherin and she favored the Slytherin students. It may have been true, yes. But he was just using all the resources he had at his disposal—you could hardly say he was too dumb to deserve the placement. And yes, he had sucked up to the head of the house. But it accomplished what he wanted, and he was willing to manipulate others if that was what it took to get to the top.

"Oh well," she sighed. "My new partner isn't half as talented as you. I'm going to fail if I can't copy your notes anymore!"

"Maybe you should try studying," he suggested flatly.

"I do!" she exclaimed, sliding out her Potions book and smacking it violently like she was trying to beat it up and make it tell her what she needed to know. "I read the sentences and think to myself, 'what did any of that just say?' and it's like it goes in one ear and just flies out the other." She dropped her head into her hands and gave a big sigh. "Anyway, how are you doing? No, forget that—let me guess. You're acing all your classes. You're the most popular boy in your year. You're the darling of every teacher. And your family writes you every day."

Scorpius stiffened at her last remark. While it was true that his parents had started writing him more, it was looking like one letter every few months would be the maximum. Instead of telling this to Rose, he said, "You're right on all accounts, of course. I'm quite the lady killer, you know." He said it so boringly and deadly that Rose burst into laughter.

Madame Pincer, the librarian, poked her head around a bookshelf and hissed, "Silence in the library," and she clapped a hand over her mouth and fell into much softer giggles. "Or you'll be kicked out." she threatened. Rose managed to regain control of her laughter and nodded. Scorpius sort of hoped she would have been dragged out of there by the scruff of her neck like he had been trying to have happen. Of course, he was sort of hoping she wouldn't go at the same time. The second the stiff faced librarian vanished, she broke into a wide grin.

"I didn't know you had a sense of humor," she teased.

"Full of surprises, that's me," Scorpius replied, flipping back open his textbook. He was hoping it would signal to her that he was done talking to her, but she didn't move. "So did you need something?"

"Oh, just curious as to what you're doing in here today," she said. "It's pretty nice out. The forecast is good all week—lucky for Quidditch tryouts," she added. "Are you going out for the Slytherin team?"

"No," he said. "Quidditch is sort of dull, if you ask me. And if I get too much sunlight, I'll be incinerated."

She smiled. "Wow, I had no idea you were funny. We never really talked much last year."

Scorpius thought about the year before only when he had to. He had been such a socially inept little dork. He had only started making friends about three months from the end when he had decided he couldn't just drift through the next seven years as miserable as he had been. The friends he had chosen weren't brilliant, or particularly funny, but they were friends of necessity. And he was pretty fond of them, although they were sometimes prime examples of the base Slytherin stereotype, taking joy from picking on other kids. "I hate talking, anyway," he told her. "I'm much too busy to do any of that."

She eyed his big stack of textbooks. "I'd believe it," she said. "You have more textbooks than you have room for classes. Is this all just _fun_ reading? Or are you intending to learn everything from Potions three before we actually have to take the class?"

"I've got double Potions this year," he said quickly, shuffling his books off the desk before she could keep looking at the titles.

"Yeah, but you wouldn't have that until second semester," she pointed out. "Doing a little preparation for the class?"

He nodded seriously. "I secretly get off from reading up on the many uses of red grass root in potion making," he whispered dramatically. Rose looked amused. Scorpius was just hoping that his conversation avoidance had worked. To be honest, he had applied for a time turner, but he didn't have a complete double schedule. He only had about one and a half times as many classes as normal students did. His plan was to keep using it like that through all six years—it wouldn't be overwhelming, and he'd be able to get a lot more interesting classes sooner, freeing up his schedule for fun electives.

"But seriously," she asked, and Scorpius inwardly groaned. "What's with all the books?"

"Why is it so hard to believe that I'm just getting some studying for my classes so they don't take me by surprise when I have them next?" he asked, giving her a look. "Are you _judging_ me?" he added, in mock hurt. "I am an emotional wreck because of you, Weasley."

"Why are you so smart?" she asked, like he was intentionally doing it to piss her off. Although that was one of the benefits of his intelligence, it was more like a pleasant side effect than a specific motivator.

"I can't help it," he said. "It's a gift and a curse. With great power comes great responsibility."

Rose gave him a blank look. "Huh?" she asked.

He sighed. "Never mind." Of course she wouldn't know what Spiderman was. She was a pure-blood, after all. Rose was raised by wizards and probably wouldn't even recognize a TV. Well, he was, too, but his mother wasn't. And whenever they visited them for the holidays, his cousins(Muggles) liked to watch the movies on repeat for hours on end.

"So you study here every day?" she asked. When he nodded, she rolled her eyes, like she'd rather kiss a blast-ended skrewt.

"Don't knock it until you've tried it," he told her, pulling his Potions textbook back in front of his face. "Like I said... do you need something?"

She looked wounded. "Am I not allowed to talk to you?" she said.

"I'm very busy. We can only talk by appointment," he told her.

Rose opened her mouth to berate him, but Madame Pincer came around the corner again. "You are disturbing the other students," she hissed, seizing Rose by the ear and dragging her away. Rose tried to grab her bag off the table as she was hauled off, but she missed it and it was left hanging off her chair. "Using the library is a privilege that has been _revoked! _For at _least_ a week!"

Scorpius eyed the bag like it was a bomb. And he supposed he was to take care of it and get it back to her, wasn't he? He groaned. Typical.

* * *

><p>"...and I've never been so humiliated in my life," Rose ranted to Albus and James. "Dragged out of there like I was a criminal, berated in the hallway—she wouldn't even let me get back in to pick up my bag! And I can't go in there for the next week," she added, looking wretched.<p>

"It's your own fault for talking so loudly, Rosie," James said, managing to keep a straight face for about two seconds and then bursting into laughter. "What a night troll! Honestly, I had annotated my copy of the required reading for Muggle Studies and she went barmy on me, screaming and throwing a real tantrum. I've been banned for a whole _month_," he added, looking proud.

"That's nothing to brag about," Albus pointed out. Rose stuck out her tongue at him and picked at the dessert spread out over the tables. She settled on a small treacle tart and popped it in her mouth. "Where will you study?"

"Study?" James said blankly. "What would I study for?"

Rose said, "Well, if you wanted to try out for Quidditch and not have a required study with McGonagall again," spewing crumbs at him as she talked. Embarrassed, she wiped off her mouth with her sleeve.

"Nice," James told her. "Real classy." Rose rolled her eyes. "Speaking of Quidditch, did you notice the flyer posted in the common room? Tryouts this Saturday!" He had a glitter in his eyes. "I don't know if I can sleep tonight."

"Well, if you don't you'll be falling off your broomstick in the morning," Rose pointed out. "If you want, I can knock you out." She held up her fist threateningly.

"Oh, ha ha," James snorted. "Like you could ever hit this handsome mug."

As they were leaving the Great Hall and heading for the common room, they ran into Scorpius Malfoy, who had the expression of someone who has been reading for a very long time. He had black ink on his hands that really contrasted with his deathly white skin. Rose instantly noticed the brown leather bag he had slung over his shoulder.

"You left this behind," he said, sliding off her lost bag and handing it back to her. "When you were forcibly removed from the library."

"Thanks," Rose enthused, checking inside to make sure all of her books were there. He'd even put the textbook she'd taken out back in. "Are you just leaving the library? Dinner's almost over."

He shrugged. "I got distracted. I had a lot of work to do. Bye." He hurried on past them and slipped open the door to the Great Hall. The din of the hall bounced out for a moment and then was muted as the door shut softly behind them.

"Is he really a Slytherin?" Albus asked. "He seems decent."

Rose shook her head. To be honest, she really wondered what the Sorting Hat had seen in him that made him a candidate for his house. And last year he was even less so. "I have no idea what to think of him. Anyways, Violet and I are going to go visit some of her friends in the Hufflepuff common room, so I'll see you later!"

Albus looked wounded. "I thought we were going to play wizard chess," he said.

"Oh, that's right," Rose realized, stopping. "Um... I can cancel with Vi."

He waved his hand. "Don't worry about it. I should probably get started on my Defense Against the Dark Arts paper, anyway."

"Reschedule?" Rose asked apologetically. "Tomorrow night for sure, okay? And James can wow us with how well he did in tryouts."

James was starting to look slightly sick. "I don't want to talk about it," he said. "I'm not feeling so good."

"Do _not_ throw up on me," Rose threatened. "Now go to sleep and you'll feel better in the morning."

* * *

><p>But James was looking even worse in the morning. His hair was mussed up and he didn't look like he'd slept at all. He was pale white—almost as bad as Scorpius Malfoy. And he barely picked at his breakfast listlessly. He didn't say a word, even as Rose and Albus tried to encourage him and cheer him up. "I'm not going to try out," he said finally, pushing away his plate. "I'll make a fool of myself."<p>

"You'll be fine," Rose promised. "We'll come watch, see? Now where's your broom?"

"I left it in the dorms," he said gloomily.

"Albus, go get his broom. I'll get him down to the Quidditch pitch," she ordered. Albus jumped up and raced away from the table. Then she stood up. "You drink that orange juice right now or I'll hold your nose and pour it down your throat by force."

James looked startled by her sudden aggression. He meekly picked up his glass and drained it in one gulp.

"Good, now come on," Rose snapped, seizing him by the elbow and pulling him up to his feet. James stumbled over the bench. "You have irritated me _all_ summer with your Quidditch talk, and you are at _least_ trying out now, or I'm going to positively kill you." As she pulled him away from the table, she grabbed about five slices of toast off the table and stuffed them in her robe. He would eat them before he got in the air, she decided.

Albus was waiting in the bleachers with the broom anxiously. There was already a group in the air. It looked like it was the captain and a few of his friends just warming up. James moaned as one of them knocked a Quaffle through the air and it sailed perfectly through the hoops, all the way on the other end of the field. "I'm _doomed_," he groaned.

"Eat this," she threatened, shaking the toast in his face. He pushed it away and turned away from them. The captain, who she recognized as Nathaniel Darcy, was landing on the grassy pitch. Darcy was a beefy boy who could probably bounce Bludgers off his chest instead of hitting them with his bat. Next to him, James looked rather small and spidery. "Oh, just take your broom," Rose sighed, pushing him toward the pitch. She and James sat in the stands and watched as Darcy called for everyone's attention and brought them in to a cluster around him. She was too far away to hear what he was saying.

"Everyone else is at least a year older," Albus pointed out, without much hope. "He's gonna get flattened."

Rose shook her head as Darcy ordered them all to kick off and fly two laps. "He's going to be great," she said firmly. But as James flew into the air, she felt like maybe Albus had a point.

Also on the pitch was Roxanne, the youngest of Uncle George and Aunt Angelina's kids. She was a sixth year and had been a chaser before, but it looked like she was trying out for the position of Keeper. Considering how both of her parents were natural Quidditch players, she was quite good. Last year, her older brother Fred had played Keeper—as well as been the captain of the whole team, getting them a good second place in the house cup—but now that he was gone it looked like she'd be taking over.

Darcy picked her as Keeper almost right away—there was almost no opposition, and they had no talent(or at least not like she did). He picked his Seeker next, the same as last year as well—Violet's older sister Nina. About a handful of Beater hopefuls had turned up—James being the tallest and therefore easily spotted. There was only one vacancy on the team for Beaters, as Darcy was the other.

Rose was losing interest in the tryouts fast. She wished she had brought a book or some homework, but it hadn't occurred to her as she was shoving James out of the hall. Albus was paying rapt attention to what they were doing and kept shushing her whenever she tried to make small talk. She heaved a sigh and yawned. It was a crisp, beautiful morning, but there was a stiff wind gusting around that was freezing. Luckily, she had on one of Grandma Molly's handmade knit sweaters(deep navy). Still, she found she was longing the warmth of the common room fireplace and a nice hot mug of tea.

As she snapped out of her daydreams, she realized the Beater tryouts had ended. James was on the grass again, shaking hands with the other kids. Darcy clapped him on the back. "He made the team!" she gasped, jumping up.

Albus gave her a funny look. "Well, _yeah_," he said. "Completely outflew the competition. It was amazing. Weren't you watching?"

"Oh, yeah, of course," Rose said, hastening past him to congratulate James. He plucked the toast out of her hands and began chewing cheerfully. "Congratulations, you!" she cried.

He nodded. "Of course, now that I think about it," he said, "I really had nothing to worry about. I mean... look at me. How could they not put me on that team?"

Rose rolled her eyes skeptically, but patted his arm. "Feeling hungrier?"

"Starving. Hope breakfast hasn't ended yet," he added. "I can still smell sausage."

* * *

><p>AN: Did anyone read my last author's note and see the bit about only updating on Estelle's birthday? LOLOLOL you really shouldn't take my word for it. I was _kidding._ Speaking of Estelle, BOY was she mad when she saw that. One of my favorite things about her is how trusting she is(or is that gullible? JK). It's a good quality. As well as that, she has good taste in literature. I mean, she wanted a HP fanfiction, how could she _not_ be cool?

Anyway, I keep mentioning other Weasley family members like Lucy, Roxanne and Fred... They aren't OCs, y'all. They're actually the children JKR thought up for the next generation. How cool is that?

Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it! Please leave a review!


	3. Chapter 3

Scorpius was waiting around aimlessly for Morgan and Braxely outside of the Potions classroom. They were being lectured by Professor Scarrow, yet again, for failing to turn in their homework.. Not just on time. Ever. Her latest grievance was an assignment on the properties of moonstones versus that of direct moonlight. Morgan had given her a scroll with a single sentence on it that read, 'the two are really, really different' and Braxely hadn't turned in anything.

So while Scorpius did see where she was coming from, he had to give them this—they were both really, really stupid.

A loud squeak snapped him back to attention. A first year girl was pinwheeling her arms at the top of the stairs frantically, tipping slowly forward toward the long flight down. Suddenly she pitched over and rolled down all twenty steps, bouncing along. Her bag flew open and her belongings started to fly out every time she took a turn. A small vial of ink smashed on the bottom stair, and as she rolled to a stop, she landed directly in it. Somehow, she was miraculously unhurt, but her lower lip was trembling furiously, and he suspected she'd burst into sobs any second. Scorpius fought a grin—it reminded him of something he had done the year before.

"It's alright," he said quickly as tears began rolling down her cheeks. He hurried to the stairs and started picking up her things that had fallen out of her bag. But when he handed them back to her, she snatched them away like his fingers were poison. Then she pulled a rude face at him and rushed off.

Scorpius sighed. He was positively sick of the way people assumed he was amoral and foul. It really pissed him off. Not that all other Slytherins were, but his house-mates were probably the least generous of the four. It was a very Ayn Rand way of living—to serve others before yourself is the highest sin imaginable. What was he even doing in this house? More often than once he had asked himself the same question. What had made the sorting hat so sure he was meant for Slytherin? The thing had barely touched his head before announcing its verdict, and while at the time he'd been so relieved he was a Slytherin just like his parents were, it wasn't long before he had begun to wonder. Did he belong? But he could not see himself in Hufflepuff—while earnestly good people, he found them rather irksome at times. And although he was intelligent, he was nowhere near the same level Ravenclaw was on. Which left Gryffindor, and he didn't even want to think about that possibility.

Morgan and Braxely hurried out of the classroom with a slightly terrified look in their eyes. The moment the door opened, he could hear Professor Scarrow ranting and raving. "If you don't have all of your work on my desk by tonight, consider yourself in detention for the rest of the year!" she shouted as Morgan shoved the door closed and pressed his back against it, panting.

"Blimey, she's not happy," Scorpius said, smiling darkly.

Morgan gave him a look that said he had better shut up. "When is she ever? You've got to help us, Malfoy," he told him. "You heard the witch. Detention for the rest of the year! And I wanted to join the Quidditch team!"

"I've 'got' to, do I?" he asked, arching his eyebrows. "How about asking politely?"

Braxely shoved his arm and pushed past him. "What happened out here?" he asked, pointing at the stairs that were stained with ink and a few loose leafs of parchment that had been left behind.

Scorpius pushed off the wall and shrugged his shoulders. "First year fell down the stairs. Come on, let's go work in the library."

He led the two of them up the stairs and headed past the Great Hall. "We should get breakfast first," Morgan suggested, rubbing his stomach. "She called us in before we had a chance to go."

Braxely nodded in agreement. His particularly large chest gave a fantastic growl. They both stared at Scorpius, who rolled his eyes. "Go on, then," he said. "I've already eaten. I'll meet you there."

Scorpius left the two of them as they hurried in to catch the last few minutes of breakfast. But he found his feet taking him away from his destination and instead he wandered the empty corridors, looking for something—he didn't know what. He found himself outside. A set of stone stairs led out onto a small courtyard—a few marble benches and an ornate fountain that burbled happily. No one was around. He could see the Quidditch pitch off in the distance—this was set a little off the path that most people took back from the games. It looked like a few people were in the air. Vaguely, he recalled something about Gryffindor tryouts being at this morning's breakfast. Well, then.

He caught himself wondering if Rose was down there and shook his head to clear the thought. He did not want to think about Rose Weasley. Aside from talking to her the day before, he had steadily avoided her. Not so much on purpose, per se, but if he spotted her in the hallways he'd be extra careful to not let her see him, or if he noticed her hanging about the owlery, he'd simply mail his letters at a different date. Why? Well, he didn't really know, if he were to be honest. The crux of the matter was this—Rose Weasley made him uncomfortable, he didn't know why, and he didn't like it.

A swarm of people were coming back up from the Quidditch pitch. Scorpius turned his head to read the time off the clock tower, just as it chimed nine. Which was not good, because breakfast ended at eight forty-five, and Morgan and Braxely would be waiting in the library, likely furious. Scorpius began hurrying through the school to head up there, but he met a trio in the hallway as they came through the door. And of course it was Rose and her two cousins.

She grinned at the sight of him. "Hello, Scorpius," she said. "James just made the team!"

"Good for him," he said, glancing at the tall Gryffindor boy, who was chewing on a few links of sausage.

"We're going to see if we can grab any leftovers from the kitchen before the house elves throw them away," Rose told him. "Want to come?"

"No," he said sharply, trying to quickly skirt around them without being too rude. As he could clearly tell, he was failing miserably on that front. "I've got to be somewhere," he added, in the hopes it would perhaps excuse his behavior. Judging by her frown and her older cousin's curled lip, it wasn't working. "Nice seeing you," he finally said lamely, and then rushed away.

He was halfway up the flight of stairs when he heard James say, "What a prick. I take back everything nice I said."

"You never did say anything nice," Albus pointed out.

Braxely and Morgan were staring blankly at a textbook in front of them as Scorpius hurried up to it. "None of this makes sense," Morgan was telling Braxely when he saw him. "It's him!" he cried. "Where have _you_ been?"

"Detour," he said, pulling out a chair and taking the textbook out of their hands. "Potions theory? What's the assignment?" They showed him a list of topics. "Pick one?" he asked.

"No," Braxely said sadly. "Do them all."

Scorpius groaned. "I knew you hadn't been keeping up on your classwork, but this is atrocious. And I suppose there's no chance to expostulate Scarrow?"

They stared at him, confused. "What's that supposed to mean?" Braxely asked.

Scorpius shook his head. "Never mind. What have you been doing instead of writing your papers?"

They shrugged. "Sleep," Morgan suggested. "Very tiring, these classes. Oh, and we play wizard chess."

"Decadence, that's what this is," Scorpius scolded. "Forget it," he added, seeing their puzzled expressions. "Let's just get started."

It was only an hour later when they had finished their first two papers and Braxely stood up. "Well, that should do it," he said.

"'Do it'?" Scorpius asked.

"I'm done," Braxely said. "If Scarrow can't accept how much work this is—well, then I might as well just take the detention and do it in there."

Scorpius considered dissuading him, but considered the options. Braxely would probably not listen to him, he'd be resentful when Scorpius wouldn't be able to keep himself from saying 'I told you so' and he'd be mad at Scorpius for likely the rest of the semester. Alternatively, Braxely took the detention but got to complain to Scorpius for the rest of the year or until Scarrow told him he could be done. The complaining would suck, but Braxely would probably consider Scorpius a lot closer a friend after that. So instead, he just nodded.

"OK," he said. "If you change your mind, I'm right here."

Morgan watched him go. "Well, I'm trying out for Quidditch if it kills me," he said. "Only ten more essays."

* * *

><p>"Potter!" Darcy barked sternly. "Watch where you're sending that Bludger!"<p>

James winced and nodded at the captain, who zoomed after the Bludger he had sent a bit far to the left and smashed it right back at him. They were running pass exercises for now while the Chasers tried to score on Roxanne. It was all he could do to return it to the brawny Beater, who returned his passes like they were easier than swatting flies. James was certain his bat was going to crack in half every time he received.

"Come on, then, James," Mathias Cromwell teased as he zoomed around James with the Quaffle tucked neatly under his arm. "Protect us!" His best friend Faustus plunged in front of him just as Darcy sent the Bludger zooming right back at them. James darted under the Chaser and blocked, sending it rebounding back into Darcy. Darcy caught it swiftly and grinned.

"That was good," he praised, flashing James a grin. "Right then, you two, stop mucking about and give Aldric a hand before he falls off his broom."

James glanced at the third Chaser, who was named Aldric Corrington. Aldric wasn't the best flier, and had slipped over the edge of his broom and was dangling by one hand from his Cleansweep. As he started to plunge to the ground, Faustus and Mathias flew cackling to his aid, catching him by the robes. Faustus was a pale boy with black hair cut in the popular Muggle fashion—shaggy and over his eyes. On the other hand, Mathias was dark skinned and had his hair cropped close to his head. On and off the pitch, the two of them were inseparable. It was their second year on the team, but they didn't act like they were new at all.

"Right, good practice tonight," Darcy decided, looking at the clock tower. "We've still got another week to get ready for the Ravenclaw-Gryffindor game, but we can beat those nerds any day. We've got the pitch tomorrow at six again, see you all then."

They landed on the field and hurried off to the locker rooms to put away their brooms and robes away. James pulled on his ratty sweater from Grandma Molly—it was getting colder these days. When he poked his head out of the top, Darcy was standing right in front of him, arms folded. James jumped a little in surprise.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," Darcy said brusquely, not looking apologetic in the least. "Just... you ever had real training before?"

James shook his head. "My uncle taught me how to play, but he never went beyond his school team." Uncle George told him one day over the summer that he and his brother Fred had thought about being professional players for a long time before they had opened Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, but after Fred passed away, he didn't want to play Quidditch anymore.

"You're a Potter, I suppose it's just in your blood," Darcy suggested. James wasn't sure he liked that observation, he thought, as he pulled on a pair of tennis shoes. He had worked _plenty_ hard to get where he was. It had nothing to do with his last name, it had everything to do with his work. "You've got a lot of talent, but you could use some guidance. What do you say to this—meet me on the pitch at seven tomorrow. We can do some extra training."

James gaped in surprise. "You mean it?" he asked.

"Would I kid?" Darcy replied. No, James supposed, Darcy probably never kidded about anything. "See you there, then?"

His face split in a wide grin. "Of course!"

Darcy clapped him on the head and scuffed around his wiry hair. "And take a shower," he added. "You smell."

James hurried straight for the common room instead. He found Rose and Albus bent over a chessboard, intensely focused on their game. "Oh, how was practice?" Rose asked. "Rook to D8. Check!" The small white castle slid forward slowly, making all of the pieces around it gasp in shock and horror. James was always amused by the game, but tonight he had more pressing matters to consider.

"Fantastic!" he crowed, feeling incredibly proud. "You'll never guess what happened!"

"What happened?" Albus asked. "King to A7."

"_Guess_," James told him, prodding Albus's arm.

"You said we'd never be able to," Rose pointed out.

James was starting to be a little bit dampened by their lack of enthusiasm and decided to chalk it up to the fact they just didn't understand how important Quidditch was. "Nathaniel Darcy, the team _captain_ asked _me_ to come do private practices with him in the mornings at seven! And he said I had a lot of talent," James told them, delighted.

"Queen to A5, check," Rose said. Then she glanced up at James. "Wow! Congratulations!" she said, feigning enthusiasm. "That's great news!"

James could tell by her tone she really didn't want to talk to him right now. Even as Albus began to give him praise and enthusiasm, James knew they both just wanted to get back to their game. So he nodded and took a few steps away. "Best of luck, Albus. Rose is going to flatten you."

"Not so!" Albus said. "Knight to B2. Checkmate!" He grinned. "And how often is it that you get to checkmate with a _knight_?" On the board, the black pieces began shouting and waving enthusiastically. Rose stared at the board, stunned. "Play again?"

"No way," she said. "That's the fourth time you stomped me!"

James retreated to a cushy arm chair in the corner of the room and took out his copy of _Broom Care _to flip through a bit. If Dad was going to loan him his Firebolt, he was going to make sure it was in great condition the whole season. He knew his dad had gotten it from his godfather, Sirius Black, and it was really important to him.

He fell asleep there, exhausted from the practice.

* * *

><p>Rose cracked open her eyes and glanced at the tiny enchanted clock she'd set on her bedside table. It was still dark outside, but her clock was humming softly the way it did to wake her up. It usually tuned into random Muggle radio waves and played music when they were at home, but at Hogwarts, it couldn't pick up any waves. As a result, it softly sang to itself. The clock noticed she was awake and lit up the clock face. Only six fifty—she didn't need to be up for another hour. Rose reached out to silence it with a biscuit, which the clock snapped down.<p>

Six fifty... and it had probably been singing for a little longer. Why would she have set her clock to wake her up at this time?

With a flash, she remembered seeing James asleep in the chairs with his book about broom care in his arms. _In the mornings at seven_, she realized he had said. Rose rolled out of bed with a loud thunk and rushed out the doors. She pounded down the stairs and ran to the chair James had fallen asleep in. He was still there, wrapped in a blanket Albus had found for him. "James, get up," she hissed, shaking him roughly.

"What are you doing?" he mumbled, shrugging his shoulders and trying to roll over. "Sun's not up yet."

"Quidditch practice with Darcy," she whispered in his ear. James's eyes flew open and he leaped to his feet.

"What time is it?" he asked desperately.

"You've got ten minutes," she told him. He looked down at his clothes—the same ones he'd worn the day before. "Change them after you finish practice, alright? And find time to shower—you stink."

James gulped anxiously and grabbed his shoes off the ground, running for the portrait hole. He jumped out before it was even done swinging open. In the hallway, Rose could hear the Fat Lady grumbling about a rude awakening.

Rose went and picked up James's book from where he had tossed it on the ground in a panic. The cover had a little drool on it and a big section of the pages were bent and folded out of place. She smoothed them out as best she could and wiped off the cover.

Well, now that she was up, what was she going to do? She had about an hour that she could put to use studying, but it was such a lovely morning out... Of course, Sundays at Hogwarts were always so delightfully lazy. There were no classes, and breakfast ran an extra hour in case someone wanted to sleep in. There would be time to study later. She hurried back up to the dorm and found a pair of canvas high tops. Rose pulled on her sweater from last Christmas and wrapped her scarf around her neck—it was chilly this morning. The last few days of summer had slipped away and she could feel fall's bite. Too lazy to change out of her warm pajamas, she left through the portrait hole figuring no one would be awake to see her rainbow bunny pants.

Once in the empty hallway, she started trudging off, unsure of where she was going. Exploring in Hogwarts was always so exciting because it was so huge. Uncle George had sworn he would tell her about the secret passages when she was older, and she was resolved to find at least one before then. He was awfully smug about his secrets, and she really wanted to rub it in his face. Turning a corner and coming to a statue of an old witch, Rose began feeling around it for some hidden switch or button that would hopefully lead her to some undiscovered place.

"What are you doing?"

Rose jumped and swung around, gasping in shock. "You scared me half to death!" she cried, seeing Scorpius Malfoy standing there. His hair was untidy, and there were deep purple bags under his eyes, but he was dressed impeccably as always. In his arms was a thin white letter and a slender parcel.

"You're climbing on a statue of a witch. Any particular reason?" he asked, pointing at the witch. Rose slid off the statue and folded her arms grumpily. "Apparently not. You're up early."

"So are you," she pointed out. "And it's hardly a crime."

He shrugged. "I'm a morning person. You, on the other hand, strike me as the type who rolls out of bed with scarcely enough time to catch a few minutes of breakfast and occasionally keeps pajamas on all through the day." Scorpius stared at her bunny pajamas and Rose flushed, embarrassed. "Evidently I'm right about that."

She tried to stare him down with a steely glare, but it wasn't working. Something about Scorpius just was too hard to dislike. Maybe it was his dry humor. Maybe it was his surprising kindness that only surfaced once in awhile. Whatever it was, it made her smile broadly. "Yep, you got me," she admitted. "Mailing a letter?"

"As well as receiving," he said, waving the parcel. "My father sends me Muggle classics from time to time. They're interesting."

"Oh," was all Rose could think to say. She'd read some Muggle books, but it was mostly chick lit. More than once her mother had encouraged her to read some older novels, the books she'd grown up reading(being Muggle born) but they were always rather thick and dreary. "That's nice."

Scorpius obviously could tell she wasn't interested. "I guess it's not your cup of tea," he said. "So, you never said. Why are you up so early?"

"Had to wake James up for early Quidditch practice," she told him. "And I figured I'd go for a walk after."

"Ah, James," Scorpius said, his face going stiff. "What a guy." Rose couldn't figure out why he was so annoyed suddenly. Yes, she knew James wasn't fond of him, but she didn't think the two had ever had a face-to-face argument. In fact, she didn't think they'd met more than twice, and hadn't even spoken two words to each other. He started to walk again, leaving her behind, and Rose had to hurry to keep up.

"Where are you going?" she asked. "Stay and chat."

"The library. I'd invite you, but as I understand it, you're banned for the next week," he sighed in mock apology. "You'll just have to make do without my dreary company, I suppose."

"Hey, wait!" Rose called as he pushed open the heavy oak doors and slipped through. They closed with a loud thud. She planted her hands on her hips. What got his underwear in a knot?

* * *

><p>Scorpius's head was bent over his textbook. It was pouring rain outside, and he had retreated to the library for the night. Friday classes were the most boring, and having to take double the classes anyone else was even worse. Because while most of his friends had six hours to spend in school, he had twelve. And twice the homework. Basically, it was going to be a long evening of studying to keep up.<p>

Rose Weasley and he had not spoken for the last five days. Not that they had been ignoring each other, per se. They shared no classes anymore, and they were in two different houses so it wasn't hard for them to keep missing each other. He wasn't _avoiding _her, he kept telling himself. He was just making sure they didn't talk to each other.

Someone dropped a stack of books on the table in front of him. He didn't even lift his head. "Morgan, I thought you were going to get help from Flitwick today. I'm swamped."

"Expecting someone?"

Scorpius snapped to attention. Rose Weasley was sliding into the chair across from him. "Oh, it's you," he said, refraining from a miserable groan. "What do you need?"

Rose obviously could tell he was holding in his moan, but she just pursed her lips and opened her book. "As of today, I am officially allowed back into the library. And I spent the better part of last week wishing I had a tutor, because I am dying in my classes."

"And you thought I'd love to help out, because I'm just that giving and kind?" he asked, staring at her. He really didn't have time for this. He started to close his books and stand up. Scorpius could study in the common room, if he had to. It was louder and Braxely would probably interrupt him with complaining about his detention(surprise—his plan hadn't worked). But at least he wouldn't have to do Rose Weasley's homework for her.

"Wait, don't go!" she cried, leaning across the table and grabbing his wrist. "Please? Please? I'm just going to _fail_ Potions if I don't raise my grade soon!"

Scorpius hesitated. He absolutely loathed the idea of having to tutor her. It was bad enough, practically re-teaching everything to Morgan and Braxely. He didn't need another 'student'. But it was awfully hard to say no to Rose. And—as corny as it was—he didn't mind that she was touching his wrist. He sat back down. "Alright," he said. "Just for an hour. But then I really need to get back to my work."

"Yes! Thank you!" she exclaimed. Madame Pincer shushed her loudly from a nearby book case, where she was obviously keeping an eye on her. "Just an hour, I promise," Rose added in a much softer voice.

"One hour," Scorpius agreed. His heart sank. He really couldn't afford to spend this time.

Outside, the rain intensified as the sun set. It pounded ferociously against the window. What little moonlight there might have been was shrouded by the clouds, and it was much harder to see their books. Scorpius checked the pocket watch he'd set on the table and groaned out loud. It had been two hours already—how had he lost track of time so easily? And he still had six classes worth of homework left to handle. Rose had her face buried in a book but she glanced up over the cover to see what was wrong. "Problem?" she asked.

"I just really need to start my homework," he apologized.

"Oh, sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to take so much time." Rose brushed a strand of her fiery red hair behind her ear. In the weak lamplight, her hair was the most brilliant thing in the room. "I'll go, I think I've got it pretty good now."

"No, that's fine. You don't bother me," Scorpius found himself saying before he could stop himself. How could he just blurt that out? He busied himself with pulling out his arithmancy intro assignment to keep himself from looking at her. Rose didn't say anything, and he was trying to figure out what her silence meant. Finally, he slid a glance up at her over his parchment. She had returned to her reading almost right away, but he could see the faint wisp of a smile on her face.

He was _such _an idiot.

* * *

><p>AN: Happy belated valentine's day! Sorry about the delayed update, this was the week when the teachers try and make the dumb kids drop honors classes by assigning a butt load of homework. Also, Skyrim. But now- chapter. I'm a little ashamed of myself, because I absolutely promised I wouldn't be romantic before they were third years... but we all had crushes when we were twelve.

Say, I never asked Estelle how her math test went! Or what happened with That Jon Guy Who Was Hitting On Her! Estelle, please tell me. Estelle is light years smarter than any of us will ever be. She's taking college level math. She's not even legal yet!

Thank you for your continued readership. I sure like reading your reviews, you guys give me actual constructive criticism! How flattering is that! I'll try and write the next chapter, but, well, Skyrim. FUS RO DAHHHHHH. Eowebrinda, out.


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